


Hail to the King

by Uturuncu



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Abuse, Age Difference, Armor, Asphyxiation, Blood, Canon Compliant, Choking, Clothed Sex, Coersion, Crying, Cuckolding, Death Threats, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Emotional Manipulation, Fear, Fear of Death, Forced Eye Contact, Hair-pulling, Helplessness, Hickeys, Implied Relationships, Large Cock, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Blood, No But Seriously Rape, No Such Thing As A Happy Ending, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Not-Quite-Vomiting, Out of Character- Or Is It?, Pain, Painful Sex, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Secret Relationship, Sexual Abuse, The Point of this is Rape, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Threats of Violence, Unconsciousness, Violence, brief bondage, dragon - Freeform, gagging, so much rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6525760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uturuncu/pseuds/Uturuncu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrathion shares a night of passion with Anduin, but things go terribly, horribly wrong when his deepest fear about their relationship comes true. The response, though, is not what he expected. Nor is it even something that he thought possible of the man who does it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hail to the King

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, but seriously. Rape. I'm not joking. This isn't something that can be fluffed up as 'noncon' or anything, this isn't just some 'well he didn't consent at first' thing. It's pure, utter, horrible rape. I don't want anyone to end up horrified or triggered by reading this.

Wrathion was nervous. He was aboard the Skybreaker, spending time with Anduin, but the king was there, as well. And the king didn't know about them, and they didn't want him to know. It was long after the campaign in Pandaria, when their relationship had been relatively easy to hide. If they spent their time in the Tavern, then no one need know except his Black Talons, who were damn good at keeping secrets. Now, though, it had gotten harder. Even in the castle, there was space for them to be spread out, and the stone walls meant they didn't have to be so quiet to keep it secret.

On the Skybreaker, however, the prince and the king's quarters were adjacent, and the walls were fairly thin wood to make the ship lighter and easier to fly. They hadn't dared share relations while there, and Wrathion had his own quarters across the hall, which made it too close for his room to be used. If they got caught... Well, they fully expected the king to go berserk if they found out his son was bedding a black, after all the trouble that Stormwind, and even Azeroth itself, had with the flight in the past. It had been hard enough to convince the king that Wrathion was safe to be around, safe to be in the castle. The first time he'd arrived, he'd had Shalamayne at his throat, Varian snarling... No... Not Varian, Lo'gosh. He was quite lucky to have survived, lucky that Anduin had been there to talk his father down.

That and the ship was small, there wasn't an unused, out of the way space they could have a secret tryst in. Both of them were frustrated at this point; they weren't used to being around each other and not being able to share so much as a simple kiss or hand holding, let alone a full on bedding. It was what finally lead them to Anduin's room, late at night, to try and have a quiet moment together. If they did it in the middle of the night, then it was less likely someone would catch the Black Prince entering or leaving Anduin's quarters, and arousing suspicion.

It was a fantastic relation, both princes managing to stay quiet, which was a damn near miracle for the vocal whelp. When he left the room, the hall was deserted, and he headed back to his own to rest properly. Of course, it had been hard to not cuddle and sleep with his lover, but that was just the price he had to pay, apparently. They had, however, gotten away with it! He had kept quiet, Anduin had kept quiet, neither of them had left marks on each other visible past their clothing. The fact that they both wore high collars, though, made that a lot easier, though they had concentrated their attentions on each other's shoulders just to make sure there clothing didn't slip and give anything away.

Because of this, Wrathion was very surprised when he was called to the war room that morning without Anduin; usually the Alliance prince was always present for discussions there, offering a voice of reason and peace to the more warmongering voices of the others. Wrathion, also, was not usually invited, as he was faction neutral and not trusted to not bring information to the Horde, or give information that might mislead the Alliance. He stepped into the room, then, not trying to be stealthy, his boots clicking across the lacquered wood floor of the airship.

Upon arriving, though, another oddity was shown. This wasn't a council, the only person in the room was the king himself. The skin of Wrathion's neck and back crawled suddenly; he had a very, very bad feeling about this. Without Anduin there to talk Lo'gosh down, if Varian shifted into his other persona, things were going to get ugly, fast. He was dwarfed in size and strength by the massive hulk of armored man before him, and Lo'gosh's brutality was a terrifying thing. While he figured that, with the use of poison and judicious roguish talent, he might be able to take him down, as long as the enormous human didn't actually catch him. Unfortunately, though, he didn't know of any non-lethal way of subduing him, and he didn't dare kill the king of the Alliance for two reasons. One was that the act would turn the Alliance further against him, and get him killed himself. Two, killing the king would upset his lover greatly, and he'd lose him again.

Oh... Losing him... That mistake, that deception by Kairoz... Releasing Garrosh. Anduin catching him. He'd gone without his lover for years, until the campaign on Draenor was almost complete. They'd made up, but tensions were still high between them. Their relations were rarer, they saw each other less often, and they weren't as affectionate as they'd been before. It had hurt the whelp a lot, but he understood his mistake caused it, caused him nothing but trouble and danger.

Smoking red eyes watched the King warily, before his voice spoke in a deep rumble, "Come in, Wrathion, we need to talk." 'We need to talk'. Those were _never_ good words, they always lead to bad, bad things. Had he found out? _How_ had he found out? Surely he couldn't have, there was no way. They'd been quiet! A flicked look over his shoulder was given; should he run now? He could almost certainly just vanish, jump to a secluded part of the ship, shift, and fly off, but if this wasn't what he was worried it was... Well, running from the king would look terrible, would suggest guilt for something, and that might be even more dangerous than whatever Varian wanted to talk about.

He stepped into the room, then, back straight, muscles taut and ready to flee. "Close the door," came a further rumble. His eyes widened further, and he took half a step back. No, no, that was his escape route, thank you, he'd rather keep the door open! A look from those eyes, a mix of the King's blue, and the gladiator's gold, told him in no small terms that he meant for that door to be shut. Wrathion's nervousness grew, and he swallowed, but that look told him immediately to turn halfway and shut the door. "What can I do for you, King Wrynn?" spoke Wrathion, voice smooth, hiding his fear. A mask of calm came over him, then, a rogue's training of deception activated.

Varian tilted his head slightly, not taking his eyes off of Wrathion as he began to circle him a bit. It was like the human was sizing him up. When the king got near the door, he started to step even closer to the black, causing him to step away in discomfort. Only after a beat did he realize that the huge man had strategically placed himself between Wrathion, and the door, blocking his escape. There was the window, of course, but he wasn't sure the ship was high enough for him to shift before he hit the cold water they were flying above. His fingers flicked nervously at his sides, before he asked again. "King Wrynn? Why have you called me here? Can I assist you in some way?"

The king's silence was just making the whelp more nervous as he watched him, though he didn't allow that to show on his features. Finally, that silence was broken with a low, "How long has this been going on?" Smoking red eyes blinked in confusion, even as he felt a grip of pure terror around his heart. Oh no, don't be referring to that... Please don't be referring to that. "How long has what been going on?" with a smooth voice, he played innocent, head tilting slightly, questioningly. Deny it. If this was what he thought it is, all he had to do was deny it. He was a fantastic liar, as the Pandaria campaign had proved, with him pitting the two factions against each other to gauge their strength, without either knowing he was playing both sides all along. There was no way the king had any proof.

With a lightning fast movement that the rogue didn't even think possible for a man laden with that much thick plate armor, Varian lunged forward with a snarl. Limbs taut, though, ready for an attack, he jumped away nimbly. He truly didn't understand when he felt his body jerk to the side, one gauntleted hand snapping a hold of his shoulder pad. His feet pedaled beneath him, trying to keep his balance, but the king had pounced, not just grabbed, and the weight of a huge, muscular man combined with nigh impenetrable plate dragged him to the floor. A huge hand closed around his head as he was falling, the arm shoving downward and tipping his body so he landed head first. Stars exploded in his eyes, his body jolting at the strike and going half-limp, his mind reeling.

"You and my son, black," came the growl directly in his ear. Even past the dazing of the head strike, he understood those words, a shaky keen of fear coming from him. How was he so fast? How did he _know_!? It was like some of his biggest fears had come true. Varian had found out, Varian was angry, and Varian had caught him. There was no way he could find a way to defend himself now, even if his limbs didn't feel like molasses. He was pinned, caught, and there was heavy armor jabbing into parts of his leather clad body keeping him further pinned and immobile. His attempt to respond was garbled, before he closed his eyes and tried again. "I... What? We've been friends since the Pandaria campaign." Just keep up denying it, it'll work. "You've known that."

Rather suddenly his gaze jerked and his head exploded with pain, his vision whiting out completely. It took him several long moments to realize his head had been slammed into the lacquered wood a second time, and he desperately tried to unscramble his thoughts. He needed to be in top form for this. When Varian growled in his ear again, he realized his turban had been dislodged, the voice rippling into his sensitive hearing without the dulling of fabric. "Don't bother," it was a low snarl, "You think I didn't smell the two of you on each other at breakfast earlier?" But! That made no sense! He and Anduin had been around the King after coupling before and he'd never smelt their passions. He knew the man's nose was good, but they had always been careful to cover their scents to make sure he didn't notice, and they'd done it again last night. "I... What?" was all he could manage in response.

He felt some of his hair pulled out as that gauntleted hand twisted in the short, kinky locks, metal pinning it and tugging it. Smoking red eyes closed, then, a shudder running down his body. No, no, no, this couldn't be. This was exactly how he'd expected this to go down. Any second the human would just twist his head with full force and break his neck. He couldn't even see a way out of it; if they'd been ratted out by scent, how could he even deny it. "I can smell him on you _now_ , black," he rumbled, his free hand coming up to start yanking at the whelp's collar, damaging it and ripping the joinings out by force, tearing the stiff, canvas-like material with ease, half-choking him as he did. Wrathion didn't understand what was going on until his pauldron was wrenched off with such force that he knew the strap was going to give him a bruise before it snapped. He didn't understand, however, until one metal-clad finger moved down and pressed roughly into one of the marks Anduin had left on his neck last night. "That's fresh," came the growl.

"I well. Yes," he said, shakily, giving a little squirm beneath him; that hurt, but at the same time it felt good, reminding him of the passion he'd shared. Unfortunately, that reminder swiftly shot fear through him, because somehow the warrior above him _knew_. But he had to keep trying to misdirect him, "I enjoyed the company of one of the ship's crew last night. Did you think I was celibate? I tried to stay quiet to not disturb you or the prince, King Wrynn." A swallow was given, there; please believe it, please believe it. As his hair was twisted further, a growl rumbling from the king, he realized that his lie was unsuccessful. But how? He was a fantastic liar, and there wasn't a quaver of fear in his voice at all! There was no way he could know! "You're lying. I smell _him_ on you. And I smelt you on _him_. I heard his door open _twice_ last night. Someone was in there with him. And it was _you_ , or I wouldn't be able to smell it."

Wrathion surprised a whine of fear, but he couldn't suppress the swallow. Admit it now? Admit how long it had been going on? Perhaps the fact that he'd been with him for years without harming him would help soothe the king? But then, how long had his aunt manipulated Stormwind without overt aggression? No, that likely wouldn't work at all, would it? Smoking red eyes stayed on the king pinning him as his mind reeled, trying to figure out a way to get out of this alive. "You're a human, though? I don't understand how you could even smell a night of passion on someone, let alone know who participated in it. Even I can't do the later with the senses of a dragon," came his smooth voice, once more, wary now, losing some of its confused tone against his will.

A rough snort was given from the king, then, using the hand twisted in the whelp's hair to grind his cheek into the wood of the floor. The dragon was pinned in an awkward position, half on his side and half face down, armor stopping him from rolling either way to work on escape. Not that he had much of a chance of dislodging the sheer weight of his attacker. "I'm far more than a human, black. Ever since Lo'gosh became a part of me, I have enjoyed many perks of the ghost wolf. Scent is one of them, black. And that scent tells me almost everything I need to know. So. How. Long? I know my son wouldn't just have a one night stand. Not here." At that, Wrathion shuddered heavily and looked away. The jig was up, wasn't it? But no, he needed to deny it longer. "I still believe you're mistaken. Your son and I are friends, nothing me. That is all we've ever been, and all we will continue to be."

Another burst of white took over his vision, then, followed by a blackness. Several moments passed as the whelp laid crumpled on the floor, smoking eyes unseeing, before they blinked and he whimpered, trying to curl up but being unable due to the pin of the armor. He'd had his head struck so hard against the floor it had knocked him out... And he could feel the burning pain in his scalp where more of his thick hair had been ripped out. "I'll keep this up until you stop lying to me. Or I kill you. It's what you deserve as a black dragon. The only reason I haven't already is for the sake of my son. He's fond of you. But if you're lying, you're hiding something, and I can't abide by that." With a small keen, Wrathion's eyes squinched shut fully, and he looked away. No... No more lying, it wasn't worth it. He knew damn well the threat was serious, with the king's history with his flight...

"...Since.... Since a few months after I met him in Pandaria..." he said, slowly, hesitantly, "We met, we became friends, we fell in love, we became lovers. It wasn't something on a whim, a coupling of convenience or lust... We cared about each other. We still do." Once he was done speaking, he bit his lip and flinched, waiting for his head to slam into the floor once more. At the king's silence and the lack of a painful strike, one eye cracked open to look at him. Varian was frowning, glaring, seemingly mulling over this information, trying to judge its truth, it seemed. Wrathion's breathing started to pick up as he awaited the response, expecting something painful or fatal from it.

Suddenly, the king moved, pulling his hand free of the whelp's hair, the motion pulling out more of which was caught between the plates. Wrathion perked up, thinking he was about to be released, that he'd convinced Varian that everything was in order, and their relationship would have his blessing. Oh how wrong he was. That metal-clad hand jerked downward and wrapped tightly around the dragon's neck, body lifting up and dragging Wrathion with him. An attempt to cry out was given, leather-gloved hands snapping up to grab at the metal holding him, to peel it off of him so he could breathe. His eyes were wide as he continued to attempt to gasp in a breath, but the tightness on his throat was painful; the only silver lining was that he wasn't gripping hard enough to break the cartilage, even though the dragon knew damn well he had that ability. As he was dragged up along the floor, he struggled as best he could, kicking out and twisting side to side, but there was no way he'd break that grip.

Again, stars spackled in front of his eyes as he was shoved against the wall, head bouncing off of it. This time, though, he hadn't actually had his head cracked into it, it seemed it was just a consequence of the action. The hand on his throat pinned his head and upper back against the wall, the king's eyes burning into his own as he stood as much as he could and keep that grip up. Now there were black floaters starting to flicker across the whelp's vision, his head pounding from lack of air. He wasn't being slammed around anymore, but it seemed that the King had just changed his method of execution to strangling instead of caving his head in. His hands kept clawing at Varian's as the floaters closed in on his vision more and more, blacking it out. Smoking red eyes were starting sprout tears, thick brows raised up in fear and concern. Everything about his face screamed 'please stop!', but it seemed the king was unmoved.

Blackness swept over him, then, once more, his mind reeling, slowing down, giving random jolts of panic spontaneously before his body slumped completely. With a gasp and a jolt, though, he woke up again, throat feeling bruised and tight, but no longer clasped with metal. What he saw caused him to freeze in a mix of confusion and growing horror. Wh... Wh... _What_?! The King was still armored... Mostly. One of his gauntlets was off, though, as was his... _Codpiece_? His bare hand was working an erection of damn near titanic proportions; oh, that was where Anduin got it from... But his father was bigger, in proportion to his much larger, heavier body. Shock froze him for a moment, a very important moment where bolting would have been a smarter move. A low groan came from Varian, but he noticed Wrathion was awake.

The whelp, as soon as eye contact was made, went to lunge aside, planning to jerk sideways and then bolt for the door. Why? What? What was he doing? What was this? Once more, though, metal clad fingers, moving far too fast, twisted in his thick hair, jolting him back to where he was before and holding him in place. White teeth were bared in a snarl as the king growled at him, eyes narrowed. A confused whimper came from the whelp, his mouth opening to speak. When the king jolted forward at his open mouth, it clashed back shut and he tried to twist his head away, a high whine coming from his throat. No! What? He tried to turn his head away, but the hand twisted in his hair kept him from even that mild form of escape.

Varian growled lowly as he glared down at the whelp, leaning in to prod his thick head against Wrathion's dark lips, wringing a louder whine from the confused, and now terrified, dragon. An attempt to press further back into the wall was given, that hand stopping him. Damnit, if only this was the stone of the keep, he'd be able to use his magic to defend himself. With the airship's wood, though, he had no command of the material. There was no metal near him, either, though his control over that was limited. To use his breath weapon, though, he'd have to open his mouth... And kill the King. There's no way Anduin would believe him, though, if he told him the reason he blasted his father with magma... All he could do now was keep his mouth tightly shut.

That silky-smooth head continued to prod at dark lips, rumbles of annoyance given at the stubborn attempt to keep him out. "Make this easier on yourself and open your mouth. Or do you have a death wish? It would be simple to kill you, and simpler to make it look like self defense. I don't fear the pain of slicing myself with your daggers. Of course, I could always break something to get what I wanted. Your jaw, perhaps? It's quite painful, I've had it happen." More fear tore into the whelp's face at that, and he tried to shake his head. When the king's still-gauntleted hand came down to grasp his jaw, though, he whined, but when it started to twist he obediently opened his mouth, not daring to risk calling his bluff. No... He was fairly sure this wasn't a bluff, he was fairly sure the human was literally threatening to break his jaw if he didn't get what he wanted. That drew a purr from the larger figure, "Much better. Now, if you bite me, you will _not_ like the consequences. It'll make breaking your jaw feel like nothing."

 With the threat against him biting him, a loud keen came from the whelp, fear tearing across him. Some small part of him had still been hoping this was some kind of... Test? Joke? Something? Being told what would happen if he bit down, though... That made it sink in that this was real, this was actually happening, actually going to happen. And then it did, his eyes snapping shut completely as that huge head poked against his teeth. "Wider. Open wider, little black," came a low, coaxing purr. His tone had changed completely now that he had achieved his goal, and this was more terrifying than the anger had been before. At least the anger was something he could connect to the dual-personalitied king. This... This was new. He'd never heard of the king acting like this before, a tormentor, someone who took advantage of those weaker than him? No, this was not the Varian he knew, and confusion rippled across his features. The thoughts had brought him to pause, but when there was a snapping growl of, "Open!" he realized what was going on and opened his mouth further.

It was then that violation actually occurred, a pleased rumble coming from the king as his girthy arousal rubbed along the whelp's tongue and the roof of his mouth. He paused shortly before he got to the back of the black's mouth, giving a few small rocks of his hips back and forth. Multi-colored eyes were locked on Wrathion, anger starting to spread across his features once more, though with the dragon's eyes closed, he had no idea that he was making the human angry again. "Well?" came a dangerous, almost feral growl from above him, drawing him to open his eyes with confusion. Well? Well what? He was getting what he wanted, wasn't he? With a sudden shot of sick dread, though, he realized that no... No he wasn't. The king actually wanted him to _participate_ in this violation. A low keen rippled from his throat, but a wordless growl made him freeze for a second, then close his eyes again, dark cheeks coloring, though it was hard to see past the pigment. His tongue rolled tentatively against Varian's length, before his lips closed.

Shame, fear, confusion, all of these emotions warred across the whelp's dark face. Why? Why was this happening? Was it a nightmare? It was a nightmare, that was it! Varian would _never_ do anything like this, it was completely against his morals and beliefs. With that, he started trying to force himself to wake up, though another snarl from the King startled him and made him look up. Well, if it was a nightmare, he didn't have to fear death. ...But if it was a nightmare, why... Why did he feel every bit of being strangled? Why did his head hurt from being struck on the floor and wall? ...Perhaps it was best not to risk it, even though this went against everything he knew about his lover's father.

Smoking red eyes dropped closed once more, face twisting up in his distress, but he didn't hesitate on rubbing his tongue along the base of the member that took up most of his mouth, giving a few slow, tentative sucks. His eyes cracked open at the moan from the king, only to finally notice that it wasn't that the length took up most of his mouth... Just the girth did. As for the length it was 'about half' that was taking up the depth of his mouth. A little whimper was given around that thick shaft, eyes going wide. Oh... Oh no, no. He couldn't fit _that_. One hand snapped up, then, the leather glove hot from his considerable body heat, began to work against that length, trying to stimulate what his mouth couldn't to stop him from trying to stimulate it himself. The gauntleted hand in his hair finally slid free, allowing him to move his head, which he did quickly. He'd need to participate, here, or things were going to get _much_ worse. "Good..." came the rumble from above him.

His cheeks continued to burn, reddening further, becoming more visible against his dark skin. It certainly wasn't the blush of arousal though, just shame, disgust, embarrassment. He could hardly believe he was in this predicament; was he? Could he be dreaming? Best not to risk it... With his head free, he began to bob it, though he had little space to do so. Only so much of that length could be taken at once, and he couldn't pull back enough to get it more than halfway out without encountering the wall. It seemed this would have to be enough, but he had a sick feeling in his stomach that it definitely wouldn't. An attempt was made to pull back and say as much, but all he managed was a muffled garble against the thick shaft in his mouth. All he got in response was a rumbling laugh, and a small buck of the king's hips, something he took as a warning not to stop.

For a time he focused on the little bobs of his head, working his tongue around that thickness and sucking in varying strengths. He knew what he was doing, he'd just never handled anything of such proportion before. One leather clad hand continued its attentions on the part of that length he just couldn't take, and thankfully he was being rewarded with low groans of pleasure. They were quiet, though, and he was concerned that if he didn't do well enough the king would take it into his own hands. His head was pulled back fully, pressing against the wall, leaving a full quarter of Varian's arousal in his mouth. Once in place there, he used his free hand to gently push at a plated hip, trying to urge him backwards. A low growl told him he'd been misinterpreted, and he flinched, giving a hard suck and a bob of his head in placation. That free hand then moved back and thumped against the wall, gesturing to his head. With a second gesture, he attempted to indicate his limited range of movement, his hand giving another gentle press to an armored hip, though this time it pulled back immediately and he held his fingers a few inches apart. 'Move back this far.'

Smoking red eyes tilted up hopefully; had he been understood this time? Multicolored eyes stared down at him, slightly narrowed. Seemed he hadn't. Rather suddenly a wicked grin spread across the warrior's face and he half purred out, "Oh, you want me to move back so you can pleasure me more." Wrathion nodded as best he could with that thick shaft in his mouth. An outright purr was given there, his bare hand coming down to comb through the whelp's dark, kinked locks. "Glad to see you're getting into this," came a taunting rumble, his tone saying he knew full well that the rogue was only looking out for his own hide. Even still, the words made Wrathion flinch, eyes darting away, though he mastered the powerful desire to deny it. No, he was absolutely _not_ getting into this, but he didn't dare do something to anger Varian when he was in such a vulnerable position. Finally, though, Varian took half a step back, lining up his length so that, with Wrathion's head against the wall, a little over half of his head in there. Not enough for the whelp to jerk his head aside and try to escape, but enough for him to give the greatest amount of pleasure.

With less of that length in his mouth, Wrathion was opened to offer a new level of pleasure. His head stayed back against the wall, letting his tongue slide along the king's silky slit, and roll up to let the underside brush across his crown. The rogue kept his eyes closed, trying to hide his distress that his lap picked up no precum. Surely he'd done enough for a dollop of the slick stuff? He didn't know exactly how to take it; did Varian just have exceptional stamina, or was he doing a poor job? Either was a disturbing prospect; he wanted nothing more than to rush away to his room, clean out his mouth, and curl up in bed. If the king wasn't getting into it quickly, then this would last longer. And, worse, if it was the latter, he needed to be concerned that the powerful warrior would take things into his own hands.

After a few seconds of simply bobbing his head and working his tongue against that thick length, his free hand, the one not stroking what he couldn't reach with his mouth, came up to cup the warrior's considerable sac. He flinched slightly, but shivered a little at the same time; that was... Actually kind of ho- What?! No! By the light no! His face twisted up heavily, his nose wrinkling, feeling utterly disgusted with himself for even having that stray thought. This was his love's _father_ , and he was not doing this of his own volition! There should be no positive thoughts here! A slow, rippling growl startled him, his eyes flicking up to look at the king's scarred face; what had he done now!? "What's _that_ look for, black? Something wrong?" he sneered the last two words, baring his teeth heavily.

A small puff of distressed breath was given there, and he closed his eyes again, dipping his head down Varian's length as far as he could, letting the thick head bump against the back of his throat once more. Mollify him! Quickly! An almost rough suck was given, there, unable to help the way his teeth brushed lightly against the thick length inside his mouth. Thankfully the change of texture drew a low rumble of pleasure from the warrior above him, rather than angering him as he'd suddenly worried it would. He pulled back, now, giving a good suction as he did, but confusion rippled over him as the human's hips pushed forwards while he moved. When his head bumped the wall and the head of that thick length was still against the back of his throat, he looked up in confusion.

Multicolored eyes were hooded down at him, scarred features twisted up into a smirk, one brow lifted expectantly. Now what!? It all was made suddenly clear by the words that dripped out of Varian's mouth. "Is that all you're going to do, black? Surely you've got enough experience to take more." Thick brows twisted up heavily and he shook his head as best he could with his mouth filled. "Oh? You can't? You haven't even _tried_ ," amusement was giving way to annoyance once more, which drew a swallow from the whelp. That little swallow brought a grunt from the King, Wrathion's soft palate pressing down against him, and the back of his throat rippling a bit. He knew, though, that would only mollify his attacker for a moment.

No, now he needed to do what was apparently expected of him, much as he didn't want to... ...Much as he knew he couldn't. Once more, smoking red eyes squinched shut, closing so tightly the smoke stopped curling even from the cracks between his eyelids. A slow, deep breath was taken, to calm himself, before he drew in a second to hold, his chest pressing out even beneath that ostentatious armor. One final swallow was given, before he shifted a bit to straighten out his neck, lifting up off the floor some, though it was awkward being pinned against the wall like this. Slowly, carefully, he pressed his head forwards, trying to relax his throat enough to accommodate that massive member.

One hand came up to hold Varian's hip to support himself, fingers curling in his armor, great care taken not to push on him and risk ticking him off any further. As he pressed his mouth further along that length, though, his face shifted from distress to outright pain, feeling his throat stretching wider than it ever had before. Even when he breathed magma, it didn't distend this far! Still, he tried, shaking a  little bit. No... No he couldn't even pop the head into his throat, and he pulled back shakily, giving a heavy breath. His red gaze turned up to the king with a fearful look, his head shaking slightly. He couldn't take him any further.

The growl that came from the king that sent a shot of pure terror down Wrathion's spine, especially as it twisted into a snarl at the end. "Really?! That's the best you can do!?" A weak nod was given there, his body shuddering completely now. He attempted to calm the warrior by wrapping his hand around his length once more, working his tongue and sucking on him; he couldn't bob his head anymore, not being pinned against the wall with the length fully seated in his mouth. it was the best he could do at this point, though his blood went ice cold at the next words to come from the king's mouth, and the movement that followed them. "I think you're lying." was the low snarl, and his bare hand came down once more to twist in the whelp's hair, forcing his head still, pinning it tightly back against the wall.

He knew what was coming, and terror flashed through his eyes, his head shaking helplessly, face giving every attempt to beg that it could manage with his mouth stuffed as it was. When he saw absolutely no mercy in those heterochromic eyes, he had one last ditch effort to save himself. His hand snapped off of the king's length, both lashing up to his plated hips, trying to push him back. Honestly, he knew it was pointless, but he had to do _something_. Unfortunately, this was a very large warrior versus a small rogue; he didn't stand a chance of overpowering him, even if he'd been in an advantageous position for leverage, which he wasn't. At least he knew well enough to gasp in a breath of air; he had enough warning for that.

 It was one rough thrust that did what he'd been unable to do himself. Gloved hands clutched tightly at the King's plate as his throat was breached, stretched painfully, but thankfully he didn't feel anything split. What he could feel, though, was the way it compressed the cartilage of his trachea from the inside, and he felt the skin over it stretching out. Past the tightness of his throat around that length, he couldn't even think, hands and body quaking, tears starting to spring to his eyes. The king paused, there, giving a low, rattling purr of pleasure. With that pause, Wrathion came to a horrible shaky realization; that thrust hadn't hilted him, the warrior's plated abdomen wasn't pressed into his nose. Eyes blurred by tears flicked down; he'd taken the head, maybe a little more. No... How...? This was going to get _worse_? Fingertips twisted in his hair, trying to get him to the same angle he'd been at before.

"I knew you could do it, black," was growled out, a thick pleasure deep in that rumbling voice, "And if you can take this much, you can take the rest." Multicolored eyes flicked down to the whelp's, and his smirk grew wider as he saw a single tear fall free from one of Wrathion's smoking eyes, cutting a glossy trail down his cheek. Ah, wasn't that just a beautiful sight? A few more shoves were giving to the king's plated hips, but again it did nothing, not even making him rock back; at this point, he'd shifted to lean his weight forward a bit, so Wrathion was trying to push not just against his strength but some of his weight. The hand in his kinky hair pulled him forwards as he took a step back, rumbling out, "Straighten your throat. Make this easier on _both_ of us." A low laugh was given right after that, "Or I might tear something, if that's what you want?"

He wanted to keen, whimper, cry out, anything, but he couldn't, with that head down his throat, his airway was blocked, unable to either draw in breath or make any sound of protest or distress. Of course, he knew better than to call the king on his threat; after all of this, he was utterly sure that wasn't a bluff at all. Varian was long past bluffing, if he'd ever planned to in the first place. Wrathion actually doubted that. It still left the question of _why_ , but he couldn't even focus past the stretching pain now to figure out what it was. Simply, he obeyed the command, lifting his body up, shifting and bringing his torso in line to his head, straightening his throat to offer a clear shot. At this, his eyes squinched shut in anticipation. At least, now, his head wasn't pinned, so he would at least have some give when the next thrust came.

There was little time to wait for it, though, the only warning he got was the second hand coming up to knot in his hair as well. He didn't get a chance to think about why because the warrior bucked forward, putting all the strength of his hips into the motion, using his hands to wrench the whelp closer to him at the same time. That pain rippled down Wrathion's throat, his body jerking and twitching, trying to escape the rough thrust. He had nowhere to go, though, and a sudden clash of extra pain was given as his nose smacked into the hard plate on the king's abdomen. Both eyes twisted closed, then, more tears breaking free of them, something he would never be able to fight back. Such a sign of weakness, but one even his training couldn't stop. It hurt! And it was taking up so much of his throat, it felt like it was filling him entirely. While the head hadn't made him gag, this penetration did, the muscles of his throat clenching and rippling upwards.

The sound that came from the king then was one that Wrathion would both never forget nor be able to describe. All he knew is it wasn't a human sound, it was something like he'd never heard before. His hands clawed against the king's hips, the gag actually causing a deeper ache to take him. More tears sprung from him, then, to the point that now at least one was trailing down his face at a time. A low sound came from the king, then, one that truly disgusted him to the core. It was a _coo_ , a tender little piece of praise tinged with lust, "Mmm, yes. I knew you could do it, black. That isn't so bad, is it?" Oh how he wanted to glare, but those smoking eyes wouldn't open, clenched shut with both pain and emotion. Even still, he kept up the clawing, desperately attempting to distract himself from the violation.

It wasn't long after that Wrathion found himself gagging again, desperately trying to give a whine of pain, distress, even that little grunting that whelps did when upset. None of them were possible, though, with what felt like his entire throat bulged out with that massive member. His airway was completely cut off, the opening he'd breathe through stuffed airtight. Thankfully he'd had that presence of mind to gasp air first! Whatever little part of his mind that hadn't checked out in fear, pain, disgust, and shame mulled over what this might be like if his lungs had been empty when he was plugged.

Rough sounds of pleasure came from Varian, louder ones when he felt that rippling muscle of choking. Curiously, though, they were now completely human noises, that odd inhuman one out of place amongst them. What had it been? Honestly, whatever it was, the whelp wanted it back. Ripples of disgust were flowing through him, as those human sounds were so similar to those of his lover, just deeper, louder. The last thing he'd needed right now was the reminder of exactly _who_ was hilted in his throat.

At that point, though, small movements began, little forward bucks that pressed the plate more roughly against his nose and achieved the slightest bit more depth. Each little thrust, despite being tiny, triggered Wrathion's gag reflex again, the tightening so painful for him, and at the same time so pleasurable for the king. At this point, the clawing and scrabbling had ceased, and gloved fingertips had just hooked around the edges of Varian's armor. They clutched tightly, the dark knuckles beneath them paling as the skin tightened over bone. Helpless attempts were made to push the warrior away, of course, but he had no hope of that. He was completely helpless to the king's 'mercy'  which seemed to have vanished entirely.

To think, that mercy had been, in the end, what disgraced him, lost him his base of power, his champions, left him hunted... And here he was being shown none, all because he'd fallen in love with and bedded the king's son? His wispy train of thought was broken, then, when those hands curled his hair tighter, the gauntlet pulling more of those coarse strands out. Of course, that sudden hair pulling had nothing on what happened next. He felt the bulge of the warrior's crown pulling roughly back up his throat, that length very nearly popping free to allow him a breath. Sweet relief was stolen from him with more stretching pain, though, another rough too-fast thrust down into him, hilting that massive member once more.

 Seemed his time of relative rest was over, though, as there was no pause once he hilted, once more bumping his nose painfully into the plate. There was no break as Varian pulled away again, and just as much of a rest as he thrust back in, grunting. At this point, all the whelp could do was hang on for the 'ride'. Tears were spilling from his eyes constantly, now, and he'd lost track of the number of times he'd gagged. Thankfully, nothing was coming up; another little draconic feature was how he processed food.

That rough thrusting continued, but Wrathion was starting to tire and cramp up from the accessible position he was forcing his body into. He fought the urge to shift more comfortably, but he knew any movement would shift his throat so it curved, instead of being straight. The ache in his limbs would be nothing on the pain those rough thrusts would cause if that head struck resistance. Air... He wasn't getting any air, and he was starting to feel that in the tiredness of his limbs, and a thrum through his brain.

He was suddenly distracted from that need for air by a particularly rough and deep thrust. It wasn't the thrust itself that was the problem, though, it was the sudden crunch and explosion of pain that came from above his mouth. White spackles took over his vision, then, and a hard attempt to pull away caused more of his hair to be pulled out. His mind was reeling too much to figure out what happened, at first, before the metallic taste of blood started to fill his mouth, more with each rough thrust. Then, he realized; that thrust had been so rough that his nose had been slammed into the King's plate hard enough to break it. That blood was _his_!

A flew clenches of his soft palate were given as he tried to make the soft, upset grunt noise that he did so rarely, drawing a rough groan from the King above him, but earning him nothing. He was still plugged, unable to breathe, which was starting to get dire. The spackles in his eyes that had come from the pain in his nose weren't fading, though they were darkening to black, little dark fireflies crossing the other parts of his vision that were still working. All he could see was that plated abdomen moving forward and back, and the splash of blood on it where it had struck him. His ears rang with a high whine, and he could feel his limbs weakening, numbing up, his heartbeat becoming more pronounced. There was a dull thrum in his mind, each pulse of it wiping out more and more of his ability to think. No! He could not pass out for a third time in less than an hour!

Gloved hands scrambled at Varian's plated hips, clawing and smacking at him, trying desperately to get through the haze of pleasure the warrior was feeling as he thrust within the black's throat. It took some time, precious time that had Wrathion feeling more and more dazed. No... Not like this... Please not like this... Suddenly, that thrusting stopped, the king hilted fully in his throat once more. It was hard to hear the words through the ringing in his ears, harder to comprehend them with his sluggish mind, but he understood after a few moments of working on it, "Mmmm, I suppose I shouldn't choke you out now, should I? Enjoyable as it would be to do it, I think I'd rather keep you alive."

That length slowly pulled back out of his mouth, lungs burning, feeling swollen in his chest, heart beating wildly, trying to push precious oxygen he didn't have to his body. Then, finally, that plug popped free of his throat, and he immediately gasped inwards. Air! Precious air! With his mouth still wrapped around park of the king's length, he tried to suck in wildly through his nose, only to cry out in pain when it disturbed the broken thing. All he could do was open his mouth as wide as possible, straining his jaw to pull air in around that massive member in his mouth. It wasn't anywhere near as much air as he wanted, but he could soon feel himself perking back up, the symptoms of deprivation fading as he did. Too busy breathing in, he didn't give the whines and whimpers he'd been unable to for the past minutes.

As his senses came back to normal, he started to notice more things; the pain in his nose was legendary, and the edges of the blood draining from it had gone tacky. There was a steady stream coming from the middle of it, and he could feel it drooling down his upper lip and right onto the King's length. That explained how the blood had gotten in his mouth... But there was another taste there, one more salty than metallic, and he slowly realized there was precum dripping sporadically onto his tongue. Oh... Thank the Light! This was almost over!

Even with that thought, though, he knew he was far from freedom, with the stamina that had already been displayed here. Still, he sucked in as much breath as he could, even though he'd already felt the symptoms of deprivation go down. "Enough," came the grunt from above him, and he was actually surprised he got the warning. Not surprised enough to pause, he did  manage to suck in another lungful of air, feeling his lungs burn and twinge from how full he forced them. And then he was plugged again, that thick length ramming back down his throat with unnecessary force. Once more he was choking around it, gagging a bit, though the abuse he'd suffered so far had stretched him and dimmed his gag reflex, so he was doing it much less than before.

 Again he was being given no time to rest between movements, Varian would hilt, then immediately pull back to the top of his throat, and hilt again. This time, though, each hilting brought an increasing amount of pre from the king, starting at a few drops, then trickles. The feeling, one that was usually quite enjoyable, was extremely unpleasant now, considering the pain he was being put through, and the identity of his tormentor. Also, the taste of his own blood in his mouth from his broken nose was sorely unpleasant, the metallic taste taking over everything else quite quickly. No longer could he taste that pre that had gathered in his mouth while he was breathing desperately, and the flavor of that thick member was entirely lost at this point.

His hands had moved back to their previous position, tightly gripping the edges of the warrior's hip plates, for all the effect that had for him. He wasn't even strong enough to modulate those powerful thrusts, let alone halt them. At this point, though, the king's length was giving noticeable spurts of pre down his throat, and he could feel the liquid pooling at the entrance to his stomach. Usually he swallowed, but it was one act of defiance he could manage here to not do so. Not only would it be a way of admitting weakness and defeat, but he knew the tensing muscles of his throat would ripple pleasure down the invading member, and pain along his own throat as they tightened. At this point, also, his tears had largely stopped; he was still in pain, still debased, but more resigned now, feeling a glimmer of hope that soon he would be freed from this torture.

The moment came, then, and he got warning when the massive hands shifted from holding the hair on top of his head, to cupping the back of it. One final, violent thrust was given, smacking plate hard into his broken nose and renewing the flow of blood down his face, staining the metal further. This time, though, none of it dripped onto the thick length; all of that was fully hilted in Wrathion's mouth and throat. There was no time to consider or even react to the pain, though, because it was then that the warrior came, thick, large spurts straight down the whelp's throat. Wrathion couldn't help but flinch up at that. Usually such a pleasant feeling was deeply tainted, and he continued to refuse to swallow.

Thick, heavy spurts jetted down his throat, and the remaining space there was soon starting to fill from it. Just when he thought it would truly never end, and he'd been forced to swallow, the orgasm weakened, going from hard spurts, to trickles. Thrusts started once more, the King using the whelp's tight throat to wring out the last of his release into him. Once done, though, he stayed hilted, looking down at the dark skinned figure below him, keeping him pinned tightly to his groin. It was enjoyable to watch Wrathion choke slightly, fighting not to swallow the large load of seed that was settled in his throat.

Finally, though, finally, that length started to pull out, achingly slowly, the crown of it rubbing almost roughly against the whelp's throat. When it finally popped free, the black resisted the urge to gasp in a hungry breath, knowing that with his throat filled as it was, it wouldn't be a pleasant experience. Eventually, when that length pulled fully out of his mouth, though, popping again as it broke the seal of his lips, he crumpled to the ground immediately. On all fours, he choked, gagged, then spat up the load in his throat. He hacked and whimpered heavily, gagging and spitting as he voided himself of the King's release. Once he'd cleared his throat, he leaned over it, panting heavily, then slowly cracked his eyes open to look at it. There was a thrill of alarm when he saw blood mixed in with the release, though he realized quickly that it had just been the blood from his nose forced in by the thrusts; he hadn't actually been damaged inside. Small blats of blood dripped off his face to join it. And then he heard something. Something he hadn't even considered that could be a true horror.

A soft, plaintive, confused, upset voice said from the doorway, unsure, "...Wrathion? ...Father?" Smoking red eyes darted up, the streaks of tears dried to his cheeks but leaving visible marks, a puffiness to his eyes, and little bits of more seed and his own saliva dribbling out of his mouth. From deep within his abused throat, a heavy whine came from him; there was Anduin, standing in the doorway. His expression was a mix of horror, confusion, disgust and... Betrayal? He couldn't possibly think he'd done that willingly! "Andu-" he started.

"Anduin!" came the king's cry, as he whirled, gauntleted hand moving to 'modestly' cover his spent and softening length. His multi-colored eyes were wild, horrified, confused himself, and he was soon to say, in a voice of distress, "Anduin he _seduced_ me!" The whelp froze in pure confusion of his own at that statement. Seduced... _What_? The King had _raped_ him, using force and threat to get him to do what he wanted! Seduced him!? Another cough was given, before he rose his voice to defend himself, "I did _no_ such thing! He assaulted me! Anduin, why would I _ever_ seduce your father!?" His voice was extremely ragged, punctuated by the occasional cough from his abused throat.

Wide blue eyes flashed between the two, listening to the two different stories. He swallowed thickly, pushing down his gorge at the truly horrible sight before him. Neither story seemed in any way plausible, though. No, Wrathion would never seduce his father but... Why would his father assault Wrathion? Both claims made equal amounts of sense. None. But the sight before him spoke for itself. Somehow, it had happened, and his lover was kneeling in front of his father, the king's release in a puddle beneath him and dripping out of his mouth, and the warrior sans codpiece and one gauntlet. A low, pleading whine came from Wrathion, then. "Anduin... I wouldn't... He found out, and he attacked me.." Fear flashed Anduin's eyes for a moment. 'He found out'. But... still. Why would _this_ be the reaction. He would have expected his lover beheaded or bludgeoned to death, not sexually assaulted!

Varian's eyes flashed to the whelp, then, and back to his son. "You would believe him? I told you he was a black, Anduin, that he wasn't to be trusted! And now look what he's done!" Heterochromic eyes were locked on the blond, then, boring into blue as he did. Anduin opened his mouth to protest, to defend Wrathion's purity from the Old Gods, from the manipulation and evil of the blacks, but... Blue eyes blinked lopsidedly, flinching as a frown crossed over his features. "He... Seduced you, father?" Wrathion just stared in pure shock, then, shaking his head slightly. What was that? What was that _look_!? And now he was taking the side of his abuser?! "Anduin!" he cried out, voice still ragged, the cry causing him to have a coughing fit and spit out a bit more seed and spit. "I didn't! I wouldn't! Why would I?!"

Blond brows furrowed slightly, as the eyes beneath them turned on the debased dragon. "Because he's a black," growled the King, immediately wrenching Anduin's gaze back to him. "This is what they _do_ , they worm their way into a position of power, get the ear of someone they can manipulate, and twist it! He's probably trying to get himself into my graces now, as well as yours!" Again the prince's eyes rippled, and he flinched a bit in confusion. "Remember Onyxia? Remember what she did to our family? Her nephew comes now to try and do the same! Don't let him!" At the mention of the broodmother, Anduin flinched hard, looking away, a trickle of fear crossing his features. Wrathion... Was related to her. Maybe he would? But... He'd trusted him. Then he'd done this. No. He was a black, and he'd been a fool to trust him. A scowl was turned on Wrathion.

Smoking red eyes went wide, fear and confusion warring within them. No. Now it was his turn to feel betrayed. Anduin _was_ taking his father's side, he could see it in his eyes. He tried, then, to form words of protest, to defend himself, but honestly all he could do was wither beneath that scowl, tears springing anew to his eyes. No... How could Anduin believe that? His lover, his perfect little prince, turned against him again? A thick shudder rippled down his body, and he dropped eye contact, unable to look at him anymore. Varian let off a growling huff, reaching down to wrench the whelp's head up by his kinky hair, "Look at him, he didn't expect to get caught, and now he doesn't even have a good lie to defend himself with! Anduin, get the guards, we're throwing him in the brig!"

When the pale prince turned away, a helpless cry of, "Anduin!" was given, all that the rogue could manage. Anduin turned to look at Wrathion once more, a frown crossing his features. Had... Would he really? That didn't seem right, no. Was his father acting weird? "Anduin, guards. Before he slips away from us like the rogue he is." Again, eye contact with his father put that strange look over his face, and with another, renewed glare to Wrathion, he turned and stormed off.

A few small, weak, choked cries came from the whelp there, as he saw the baleful hatred in his lover's eyes, directed at him. Even when he'd released Garrosh, Anduin had been hurt, confused, but not hateful... No, he'd never seen that look in the priest's eyes before, not once. Anduin didn't hate... He healed... He tried to fix... Varian jerked his head, drawing a cry from him and a quick look up to the mostly-clad warrior. The King was... Smirking. Smirking in a way that sent a sick feeling down his spine. "Mmm, I guess he still distrusts you after whatever you did to fall out of his graces the first time. I didn't expect it would be _that_ easy." Confusion reigned from the whelp at those words, but he didn't get the chance to puzzle over them before Anduin returned with the guards.

They moved quickly, coming forward to grab the whelp by the arms and drag him away, a few weak cries given to the other prince, cries that only seemed to deepen the hateful glare. At this point, with all the pain and the coherency, despite the madness, of this situation, he was fairly sure he wasn't dreaming. But... If he wasn't, why were Varian and Anduin acting like this? What had happened? He barely struggled against the guards, feeling a despondency fall over him, but also exhausted from the assault, limbs heavy and weak from trying to fight, staying so tense, holding that odd position. Even when he was thrown into a cell, his attempt to escape didn't have the usual haste or grace to it, and a kick to the stomach from one of the guards put an end to it quickly.

A thick metal collar inlaid with rough, arcane crystals was clamped around his neck, and the whelp immediately felt colder, weaker. ...An antimagic collar. He knew they existed, but he'd never had the displeasure of one being put on. No shifting, no breathing, no vanishing. As manacles clamped around his wrists and ankles, he just slumped, though the sound of heavy boot falls raised his red gaze for a moment. There was the King, once more fully armored, smirking in a truly evil way as he looked over the captured dragon. Varian only stayed for a short time to watch him, before walking off once more. That look, too? What... Was going on? Hate from Anduin, cruelty from Varian? Had everything gone mad?

**Author's Note:**

> A note on ages: This is full canon. Wrathion is, indeed, about four or five in this story. However, I do not agree with putting 'underage' tags on this. He has a fully mature, adult body, and he sees the world as a fully mature adult(though he does have his moments of petulant childishness, who doesn't?). As such, because mind and body are adult, I consider him an adult despite his numerical age. He's a dragon, they age differently.. He says himself he's aware in the egg, and then his first act upon hatching is to hire someone to help him commit genocide and patricide. This is not something a fetus-toddler can do. He is an adult.
> 
> That said, if you wish to continue enjoying Wrathion getting trapped in a horrible position, I am about halfway through chapter two, and I have many, many plans for the next half dozen or so chapters.
> 
> Also, Varian's (and to a lesser extentt Anduin's) actions are out of character, I'm aware, this is intentional, and it will be later explained. You wouldn't want me giving away the spoilers already, would you?


End file.
